


Back to Her Chambers

by Cusp_of_Sensitivity



Series: The Unfaithful Collection [1]
Category: The Musketeers (2014)
Genre: Angry Sex, Episode: s03e07 Fool's Gold, Extramarital Affairs, F/M, Fuckbuddies, I Cannot Believe You Slept With The Queen, Missing Scenes, More smut for this episode, Oral Sex, Pillow Talk, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex, girl talk
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-10
Updated: 2016-12-10
Packaged: 2018-09-07 15:48:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,375
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8806888
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cusp_of_Sensitivity/pseuds/Cusp_of_Sensitivity
Summary: Paris, 1635. After Louis cuts off discussion of Gaston's motives, he orders Minister Treville to escort his wife back to her rooms. What happens when they get there is a heady mix of anger and passion that leads to an unexpected proposal.





	1. Morning

**Author's Note:**

> This series is meant to explore characters being unfaithful to their show established mates in various pairings before and during the series. If there is a particular F/M pairing that you would like to see as part of the series, please include it in the comments (I'm already outlining a Constance/Athos pre-canon story).

“Escort my wife back to her chambers.”

Treville and Anne bowed, knowing that Louis was not going to hear any more argument regarding Gaston’s treachery. Anne was the first to move away from the bed, followed by Treville, and the two of them left Louis’ bedchamber. They walked down the corridors toward the Queen’s apartment, Treville following a few steps behind Anne and even though she glided placidly by the courtiers and palace guards as though she didn’t have a care in the world, Treville, who had spent many years around the royal family and recognized all the unspoken signs of royal displeasure, knew by the set of her shoulders that Anne was furious with her husband. Not that he blamed her. Treville had also spent many frustrating hours with the King, trying to get him to see reason, to see that putting Gaston into a position of power like Regent was like putting a fox inside a hen-house, a dangerous decision. But to the dying Louis, Gaston was family, and therefore all the times that Gaston had betrayed him, had sided with his enemies, had acted against the King’s wishes in one matter after another, all that was to be swept aside and forgiven. There were times when Treville wanted to shake Louis, to make him see what was truly there and not what he wished to see. But being a loyal subject, he had no choice other than to obey when Louis declared the matter closed. Guards opened the doors to the Queen’s antechamber as the two of them approached. The ladies in waiting rose and curtseyed as they entered.

“Leave us,” Anne ordered imperiously as she entered the apartment in a swish of silk skirts, her voice ringing out in the chamber. The ladies curtseyed again and filed out, closing the doors behind them. Anne went to her escritoire to retrieve a key and Treville watched as she went to each door, turning the key in the locks to ensure that they were not disturbed. Judging from the fire blazing in Anne’s eyes, Treville knew he was about to receive yet another royal tongue lashing. 

“What the hell is Louis thinking,” Anne demanded angrily, “wanting to make Gaston regent? After everything that man has done to betray him. Is he insane?” 

“Louis is dying,” Treville pointed out reasonably, watching as Anne paced back and forth. “He wants to heal the breach in the family before he goes.” But his placating tone only seemed to make her angrier.

“Gaston will kill my son the moment Louis is dead!” Anne’s voice was rapidly reaching the point of shouting. “I’ve gone through too much over the past four years. I will not allow anyone to steal my son’s inheritance.” She turned a pair of accusing eyes on him. “You should’ve done better job of convincing him of Gaston’s treason,” she said, walking up to him.

The leash holding Treville’s temper in check finally snapped. “I’ve been working tirelessly to make him listen to me,” he growled back as he towered over her, the anger in his eyes matching hers. “I’ve spent my life defending the Bourbons from one threat after another, only to be treated like a servant when things don’t go your way. So, don’t you dare try to say that this is my fault when your husband is the one insisting on bringing a viper into the nest.” They glared at each other, neither one of them willing to back down.

And then it changed. Anne’s hand snapped out to pull Treville’s head down as she went up on her toes to press her lips to his. Treville returned the kiss, arms wrapping around Anne to press her body against his. Their tongues dueled back and forth as barely controlled anger swiftly morphed into barely controlled desire. Treville’s hips surged against Anne’s, making her very aware of his hardening cock, and she could feel dampness pooling between her thighs at the thought of taking him inside her.

“Bed. Now,” she gasped when he released her mouth to trail kisses down her neck to her décolletage. They moved to the bedchamber, securing the door behind them, stopping in front of the bed to divest each other of their clothing. Treville shrugged out of his overcoat and doublet, lifting his arms so Anne could pull his shift over his head and toss it aside. Treville reached for Anne, turning her around so he could undress her, his fingers swiftly undoing the laces of her gown with the ease of a man who knew how to undress a woman. The overdress dropped to the floor, and Treville went to work on her corset, which soon joined the pile made by his overcoat and doublet. He untied the laces of her underskirt and shoved it down her legs, taking her petticoats and chemise with it, leaving Anne wearing nothing but her jewelry, stockings, and heels. 

Treville swore softly, his eyes shining with pure male lust, as he watched her step out of the pool of silk and linen, going up on her toes to kiss him, running her tongue against his lips to get them to part so she could draw his tongue into her mouth, where she suckled him gently. Treville pulled her against him, her hands flat against his bare chest, letting his fingers trace down her back to the crevice that separated her firm buttocks, sliding down to find the dampness between her thighs that told him all he needed to know about her state of readiness. Anne’s fingers curled inward as his fingers teased an exquisite pattern at the opening of her body, her nails sinking into his flesh. Anne broke off the kiss when she heard Treville’s sharp intake of breath.

“I didn’t mean to hurt you,” she said, looking up at him almost shyly.

Treville’s laughter was dark and sensual. “You couldn’t possibly hurt me,” he whispered in her ear, his teeth teasing her earlobe, “but you could easily drive me out of my mind.” 

Emboldened, Anne unlaced the front of his breeches and shoved them down off his hips. Treville grinned broadly as Anne’s eyes widened and her mouth formed an “O” as she took in the strapping size of his cock, now freed from its constraints, which was fully engorged and throbbing. He guided her back toward the ornate bed, easing her onto her back and kneeling between her legs. Seeing her lying back against the embroidered counterpane, her skin flushed with desire, the peaks of her sleek breasts hardened pebbles, with her thighs spread far apart, the golden curls covering her mound glistening with her juices, Treville thought she looked more erotic than any of the courtesans that decorated the French court, and he would know, having fucked most of them. Gripping the base of his cock, he rubbed the bulbous cockhead against her slit, groaning as heat and dampness covered his tip. Anne moaned as he entered her, her pussy clenching around his shaft as it opened her body for invasion. Christ, she was tight, Treville thought as his hips bunched forward, his cock insisting on its right to enter Anne’s wet channel. Clearly, she hadn’t been fucked since the night at the convent. If he hadn’t been one of the required witnesses in the Queen’s chambers to see her give birth to the Dauphin, he would’ve sworn she was a virgin. He continued his intimate assault, not sparing her the discomfort of accommodating his proportions, stretching her wide as he filled her completely. When he was buried to the hilt, he rested his forehead against hers.

“Now I know why all my ladies giggle like young girls whenever you appear,” Anne whispered, looking up at him with desire in her light blue eyes. Her body was quickly adjusting around him, pleasure taking the place of pain, and she wrapped her legs around his waist, enjoying the sensual feel of having him inside her.

“Not yet, Your Majesty,” he said, his breath coming out as though he’d run a great distance, “but you will.” With that he began to move, slowly at first, but quickly building up speed as he plunged between her thighs, pulling out and then slamming back in, causing her to gasp with delight. Treville closed his eyes, savoring the way Anne’s pussy wrapped around his rock-hard erection. She was tight and warm and yielded to his strokes with silken lubricity. He lifted himself up to ride higher on her, his pelvis grinding against the tiny nubbin hidden between her nether lips. Anne’s back arched with pleasure, offering her pert breasts to her lover, who pinched the darkened nipples to even tighter peaks. Her breasts had filled out nicely since she’d had her son, pleasing full but not overly large, and Treville squeezed the soft, resilient flesh as he thrust deeper into her wet pussy, changing the angle of his entry to brush her sweet spot. Anne cried out as pleasure burst inside her, but was quickly silenced by Treville’s hand covering her mouth. With an amused smile curving those sensual lips, he shook his head, indicating the need for silence as they moved together on the bed. Unchastised, Anne parted her lips to let his finger fall into her mouth, where she sucked it at the same time she increased the pump of her hips, adding a twist to the movement as she took every inch of him. Triumph flashed in her eyes as Treville let out a satisfied groan.

Deciding that it was time to finish the erotic teasing, Treville thrust harder between Anne’s thighs, his testes slapping against her outer sex, and felt deeply rewarded when her body got hotter, tighter, and wetter around his cock. He watched her face light up as she found an orgasm with an intensity that she had never experienced before, and he clamped his lips over hers to swallow the screams of ecstasy. Unable to resist the lure of Anne’s climax, Treville slammed into her one final time as her orgasm sparked his own, satisfaction rumbling in his chest, and hot seed spurted from his shaft into her throbbing sheath. Slowly, he raised his head to see her looking up at him, her blue eyes full of feminine satisfaction.

“You certainly have a talent for statecraft, Minister,” Anne said lazily. “You are very skilled at pleasing royalty.”

“Some royals are more enjoyable to please than others,” He quipped, brushing his lips against hers. He eased himself off Anne’s delightfully responsive body, refastening his breeches then helping her off the bed, smiling when she stepped gingerly back into the pool of fabric that had been discarded earlier, as she felt the pull of intimate muscles unaccustomed to activity. Treville redonned his shirt then helped Anne to redress in her gown. When he had finished retying the laces of her overdress, she turned to look at him.

“Come back tonight,” she said, watching him pick up his doublet and overcoat and admiring his easy masculine grace.

“Is that wise, Your Majesty?” Treville asked as he fastened the buttons of his doublet.

“I need someone to talk to, someone who knows what I’ve been going through with Louis. Please,” she said quickly before he could say no.

Treville looked at the beautiful woman standing in front of him with a look of insecurity in her eyes. For four years, he had been one of the royal couple’s closest advisors. And for four years he had been a spectator to the destruction of the royal marriage. At first, things had started out well, both Louis and Anne wanting to repair the damage caused by Rochefort and his lies, and for a while, they had been happy. Louis had become more attentive to Anne, and Anne began to show more interest in Louis’ outdoor pursuits. And they both loved the Dauphin, the little boy that they had waited so long for. Treville remembered the three of them playing together, in the gardens or in the royal nursery, a happy family, or so he’d thought. But then Louis started to withdraw from Anne, to become sharp and critical of even the smallest mistake or disagreement that she made. Anne tried to correct her own behavior, to avoid doing whatever she had done to upset Louis, but Louis’ capriciousness meant that what was wrong one day was right the next and vice versa, so it seemed that nothing she did ever found favor in his eyes. Treville also remembered Anne coming to him, doing her best to keep her tears under control, asking him what she was doing wrong, pleading with him to speak to Louis, to find out the reasons for his coldness, so that she could make their marriage work. He did his best to comfort her, promising to speak with Louis, to make him see that he was treating his wife unfairly. But every time when Treville broached the subject with Louis, the King changed the subject or abruptly cut him off, falling back on the royal prerogative to avoid discussing his marriage. He even went so far as to speak to Dr. Heroard, Louis’ personal physician, to see if there was any physical ailment to cause Louis’ change of behavior, but the good doctor could only shake his head as he quietly prepared the unguents and elixirs needed to treat the white plague, about which diagnosis he had been sworn to silence on pain of execution. So Treville could only watch helplessly as all the efforts of his monarchs to be happy together came to naught, with one slowly becoming more miserable and the other completely oblivious to his callousness.

Seeing Anne standing before him now, the silent plea shining in her eyes, he found himself unable to deny her request, not after what they had just shared on her bed. “Alright,” he said as he put on his overcoat, then his seal of office. “I’ll come after the Compline bell.”

Anne’s relieved smile lit up her face and Treville was glad that he could make her happy, even though what they had agreed to was technically treason. She really was beautiful when she smiled, he thought, and she didn’t do that often enough lately. Going over to her, he kissed her gently on the forehead.

“Until tonight, then,” he said, taking the key from her to unlock the bedchamber door. Going into the antechamber, he unlocked the doors on both sides of the room, then handed Anne back the key. Bowing low, Treville left the Queen and went in search of Magistrate Belavoix, needing to speak with him regarding additional security around Paris, now that Grimaud and Gaston had escaped and were likely headed to Lorraine, where Gaston’s brother-in-law had an army that could be ready to move on the city in a matter of days.


	2. Night

Treville held the torch in front of him, lighting his way through the hidden tunnels that would lead to the Queen’s bedchamber. He had a suite of rooms in the Louvre, only one floor away from the royal apartments, but he didn’t want to risk anyone seeing him going to visit Anne this late at night. So, when he returned to the palace from dining with his old friend Captain Gainsbourg, who had become headmaster of France’s top military academy after leaving the army due to the loss of his hand in battle, he went to the hidden door that he and the Musketeers had used to smuggle Vargas into the Louvre to stop Rochefort, instead of going his usual route. As he climbed the stairs toward Anne’s rooms, he thought about what he was going to do. Sleeping with the Queen was treason, and after the debacle with Aramis’ behavior, was something only someone suicidal would contemplate. But Treville knew how starved for attention Anne had been over the past four years, he had seen Louis turn his affections to one favorite after another and ignore his wife, had seen Anne do her best to hide the hurt in her eyes after her husband’s slights, and he wanted to comfort her, to tell her that she was a wonderful woman deserving of someone who could give her the love and affection she craved. And then there was that body. When she had stood before him completely disrobed, he was amazed by the flawlessness of her slim figure. The great houses of Europe intermarried each other with great frequency, the Habsburgs being the most notorious for the practice, which resulted in descendants with many physical deficiencies, but Anne had escaped the ailments that afflicted so many of her family. Indeed, she looked like an angel, with her blond curls forming a halo around her head, and drinking in the sight of her, all he wanted to do with her was sin. Her mouth on his was sweet and fresh, and he could’ve spent the entire day just sampling its delights. He marveled at how incredibly soft her skin was as he stroked his hands down her bare back. Her buttocks were two perfectly rounded moons that fit his hands nicely, leading down to a creamy pool between her legs. His cock was already stirring with anticipation of getting back inside that delectable little pussy. 

Treville placed the torch in the holder and opened the secret door to go into the Queen’s bedchamber, emerging from the wall near the fireplace. A fire roared in the fireplace, providing warmth for the usually drafty room, and candelabra illuminated the rich furnishings in a soft glow. On the massive bed, Anne reclined against the pillows, her blond curls loose and flowing around her shoulders, wearing nothing but a diamond pendant. Treville thought it was a shame the treasury didn’t have the money to buy her a new necklace. He would’ve enjoyed seeing her body decorated with lavish jewels, sapphires maybe, to set off her eyes.

“I was afraid you might have changed your mind,” Anne said, her voice low and husky as he walked toward the bed. 

“I would never disappoint Your Majesty,” he told her, raking his eyes over her sylphlike body, with high, firm breasts capped by rosy pink nipples, slender waist, rounded hips, and sleek thighs. His body was tightening with need as he feasted his eyes on her and he knew it was time to disrobe and join her on the bed. He removed his overcoat, laying it over the arm of the nearby chair before sitting down to remove his boots.

“I could still feel you,” Anne said as he stood up and removed his shirt, revealing a chest that, while not as hard as in his youth, was still firm and strong, and tossing the shirt onto the chair. “After. Every time I moved, no matter what I was doing, it was like you were still inside me.” She watched as he unfastened his breeches and drawers, shoving them down his legs and kicking them aside, and blushed to see that his broad shaft was already standing at attention as he came over to the bed. They looked at each other, the desire from earlier that day flaring back to life between them.

“I trust I wasn’t too hard on Your Majesty,” Treville said with a roguish grin. Returning his grin with a dazzling smile and shaking her head, Anne rose to her knees in front of him. She kissed him tentatively, as though she were unsure how to seduce a man, wrapping her arms around his neck. Treville’s hand went up, his thumb tugging at the corner of her mouth to get her to open it. Her lips parted and his tongue slowly filled her mouth, tasting her intimately. Anne moaned softly, her hand slipping down between their bodies to stroke his cock, which thickened under her ministrations.

“Your Majesty,” Treville groaned, pressing his pulsing shaft against her palm. Her touch was soft and teasing, and his hips jerked to get more of the sensation.

“Not tonight,” she whispered, her hand still pumping him. “Just Anne.”

“Jean,” he whispered back, guiding her back down onto the pillows and covering her body with his own. He kissed her deeply, then broke off to travel down her body, letting his lips brush her neck, where her perfume of ambergris and rose petals tickled his nose, before moving down to her pert breasts. He took a rosy nipple into his mouth, his tongue laving as it tightened into a hard pebble, suckling her until the peak was red and swollen. Releasing the teased nipple, Treville moved to her other breast to give its twin the same treatment. Anne thought she would go out of her mind with the sensual teasing, and she felt the dampness spreading between her thighs as her body readied itself to receive her lover. When both breasts were aching from his attentions, he slid further down, trailing soft kisses down her stomach and parting her thighs to settle between them.

“What are you doing?” Anne asked breathlessly, suddenly nervous about having Treville’s head between her legs.

“We were rushed this morning,” Treville said seductively, kissing the soft flesh of her inner thigh. “Now,” he paused to brush his lips against her other thigh, “we have time to play.”

Anne’s stomach fluttered as Treville’s breath fanned the glistening curls that covered her mound. The only man who ever been that close to her had been Dr. Fouquet when she was birthing her son. She had never had a lover who put his head down there, certainly not Louis, but even Aramis, on that wonderful night they had spent together at the convent, hadn’t done that. But Treville had no qualms about pleasing a woman in such a way. She had overheard enough of her ladies’ gossip to know that the Musketeer captain turned minister was no monk, but she did her best not to listen, not wanting to have any awkwardness between them. Now, as his tongue touched her intimately, all those hushed conversations came rushing back to her, all the details of how he fucked a woman, the ways he drew out all her intimate secrets, the positions he used to make her come screaming his name. Anne lifted her hips, wanting more of his erotic kisses, and he answered her by licking a stripe up to the pearl hidden in her folds. His teeth nipped playfully at her plump nether lips as his tongue pressed her pearl in a circular motion. Anne gasped as he sucked the tiny nubbin, buffeted by wave after wave of pure pleasure, and when he moved back down to penetrate her with his tongue, she climaxed at the silky touch. Treville tasted her pleasure, lapping up her nectar as her pussy contracted around his tongue. Before her convulsions had dimmed, he came down on top of her, letting her taste herself on his lips as he edged her thighs open wider to settle between them, his erection pressing against her soft skin.

“I want to ride you,” she said, her body ravenous to have him inside her.

“As you wish,” he replied, rolling over so their positions were reversed, he on his back, with her sprawled across his torso. Anne levered herself up and scooted down to position herself over his cock. Taking the reddened engorged shaft in her hand, she guided him into her slit, her body reacting to his entry by tensing around him.

“Damn,” she muttered, wriggling to accommodate his size. Treville’s hands gripped her thighs, pulling her slowly down his length. Anne bit her lip as she was impaled on his cock, which felt hot enough to burn and hard enough to bruise. The thrill that she felt when his mouth was on her came rushing back and with a small cry, she covered him completely with her wet sheath. “You make a most pleasing stallion, Jean,” she told him, running her fingers through the hair on his chest.

Treville liked the way his name sounded on her lips. “And I’ve never had a more beautiful rider mount me before,” he replied, his hands guiding her hips in a small circle as they began the intimate dance. Anne lifted her hips up so only his cockhead remained inside her, then let her weight pull her back down on his hard shaft. With her hands firmly planted on his chest as though to pin him down as she took him, she established a slow, surging rhythm that left them both shuddering. Treville’s fingers sank into the soft flesh of Anne’s thighs as he thrust up into her soaking wet pussy, glorying in the way her body caressed his, fitting him tighter than a new pair of breeches, yet smooth as silk as she glided along his length. Leaning over, she kissed him, slipping her tongue into his mouth in a reversal of the penetration down lower. Treville wrapped his arms around her, holding her close as their bodies moved in time, sensing that she was getting closer to release. Her teeth sank into his lip as she reached the prized orgasm, her body clenching around him. With her name on his lips, he joined her in ecstasy, surging into her and releasing hot seed as her body worked on his like a magic fist. They sank back into the pillows as the storm passing through their bodies subsided, Treville enjoying the soft, warm feel of Anne’s body on his. Stirring, she slithered off to curl up by his side. 

“I’ve missed this,” she said, running her fingers through the curling hairs on his chest as she laid her head down to listen to his heartbeat. 

Treville let out a satisfied grunt, running his hand along the thigh draped over his hips. He knew she wasn’t referring to the fuck, but to the afterglow, to basking in the feeling of consummation with another soul. He always enjoyed relaxing in bed with a woman, the scent of sex hanging over them. “I’m just glad to have a pretty bedmate willing to share this with an old soldier,” he said lazily, his hand moving to squeeze her buttock.

Anne laughed, knowing he could have his pick of bedmates. “Is that why you’ve never married?” she teased him. “A lack of willing women?”

Treville shook his head. “I was betrothed once,” he told her, “when I was young, to a Basque girl whose family lived outside Pau. Dominique Emagavel.” Treville cast his mind back over the decades to see once more the vivacious woman who had captured his heart. “She was the most beautiful woman I’d ever met, and she had the kindest heart. I knew I wanted to spend the rest of my life with her and I harassed her father until he agreed to the match.”

“What happened to prevent the wedding?” Anne asked. “Did she change her mind?”

“A soldier has to go where the King orders him to go, even if it means leaving the ones you love” Treville said. “I managed to get Dominique with child during my last leave of absence, and my commanding officer was kind enough to give me special leave to go home and marry her before the child was born. I had a ring I had taken from a German mercenary during our last battle, with a big diamond far more expensive than I could afford on my pay. It was on the man’s little finger, but it would fit Dominique’s hand perfectly. I raced home as fast as I could. Dominique came out to meet me outside the city gates.” Treville could see in his mind’s eye the woman he loved coming toward him, her stomach swelling with their growing child, her eyes full of love. “In my rush to get home, I failed to notice the enemy sniper that was following me. The moment Dominique met me was the moment he took his shot. He missed me and hit her instead.” He remembered, as if it were yesterday, the shot ringing out, his battle reflexes taking over as he pulled the trigger of his musket to dispatch the assassin, then turning to Dominique in time to see her bewildered expression as a red stain spread across her breast, catching her as she fell to the ground, hearing her whisper that she loved him, his howl of rage at losing his soulmate and child. “She was buried in my family’s crypt, in her wedding gown with the diamond ring on her hand.”

“I’m so sorry, Jean,” Anne said sympathetically. “You loved her very deeply.”

Treville nodded. “Losing them was like losing a part of myself. When I die, my body will be sent back to Pau and interred next to them.”

“I don’t think I could bear the loss of my son,” Anne said, raising her head to look at him. “I’m terrified that Louis will make Gaston Regent. If that happens, my son will never be safe.”  


“You’re the Queen of France,” Treville pointed out, “the Regency belongs to you.” Salic law, while denying women the right to ascend to the French throne or pass their claims to it on to their children, had an interesting twist. The mother of the King acted as Regent during the King’s minority or his absence from the kingdom, ruling in concert with the royal council. Some Queen Mothers, like Blanche of Castile, were very able rulers, guiding the ship of state until their sons could rule themselves. Others, like the Medici Queens, were less capable, and could only react to one chaotic situation after another, behaving capriciously while they tried desperately to cling to power. Treville believed that Anne would be one of the former. She would learn from her predecessors’ mistakes, and she loved her son more than power, so she would do what was best for France. “You’ll act for the greater good of France. Gaston will bring everything crashing down to get his way. It would be a disaster for the country.”

“Louis doesn’t trust me because I slept with Aramis,” Anne said ruefully, “and now because of that, my son and the people of France will suffer.”

“The council will support you,” Treville told her. “They know what kind of man Gaston is and they have no desire to have the country slide into chaos. I’ll speak to the King about making peace with you.”

“Thank you,” Anne said, brushing her lips against his, “I know that you always do what you can to help. That’s one of the reasons Louis named you to the council.” Her fingers ran through the hair on his chest. “I’ll need your counsel to help me in the Regency,” she said, looking at the sandy curls.

“I’ll do whatever I can to assist you,” Treville said, brushing his fingers against her cheek.

“And perhaps,” she said as her fingers trailed down to his stomach, “we could share certain intimacies, after…” She broke off, unable to say the words, but Treville knew she meant after Louis had passed. He opened his mouth to speak, but her head was following her hand, dropping butterfly kisses down his torso, and his cock was already hardening as her tapered fingers wrapped around the base.

“Anne,” he groaned as he felt her breath fan his heated flesh.

“You used your mouth to please me,” she said, her lips nearly touching the swollen cockhead, “it’s only fair that I use mine to please you.” With that, she took him into her mouth, running her tongue over the orbed tip of his shaft. Treville inhaled sharply as she gently sucked his cockhead. Obviously, Anne had never done this before, but what she lacked in skill she more than made up for with sheer determination. He lifted his hips to slide his cock further into her mouth. The sight of her soft lips encasing his thick shaft was something he had only dreamed about in the early morning, when he woke up hard as a rock, and he slid his hand between his legs to find release. As he moved in and out of Anne’s mouth, he knew that he was going to take her up on her offer, that in addition to helping her guide France through the Regency he would fuck her whenever she desired. The thought of having Anne in his bed, taking her down any number of erotic paths to pleasure, made his cock even harder. He sank his fingers into the golden locks that fanned out across his thighs, holding her head still so he could fuck her mouth the way he wanted to. When her teeth skimmed over the most sensitive part of him, he exploded in her mouth, groaning as he felt a tug as she swallowed his seed. When his cock had emptied completely, Anne raised her head, licking her lips as she moved back up his body.

“So, do you accept my offer?” she asked as she settled down next to him.

Treville nodded. “It would be my pleasure to provide Your Majesty with whatever services you require from me,” he said, his hand moving to the golden curls covering her mound. Anne parted her thighs for him, purring when he slid two fingers into her wet pussy, moving against his hand to get more of the delicious sensation. Treville drank in the signs of her pleasure as she fucked his hand, thinking that passion made her look even more beautiful.

They spent the rest of the night exploring each other’s bodies, discovering new ways to please the other. Treville positioned Anne on her hands and knees, then entered her from behind, stroking deep so she reached orgasm not once but twice, fighting his own release so he could intensify hers. He showed her positions that brought a woman great pleasure, and Anne had to bite the soft pillows to keep from screaming as she experienced orgasm again and again. All she could do was tempt Treville to join her in release, which he readily did, pounding hard between her thighs and coating her pussy with milky seed. Completely spent, they lay back against the pillows and let sleep claim them for a few hours.


	3. Morning

Constance walked through the hidden tunnels going to the Queen’s chambers, holding the lantern in front of her to light her way since the thin early morning light wasn’t enough to guide her way through the tunnels. She had received the Queen’s message last night, saying that she needed Constance’s assistance very early in the morning. Constance didn’t know what Her Majesty would need assistance with this early, but one didn’t refuse the Queen. She also thought it strange that the Queen specifically stated to use the tunnel system to get to her chambers. Constance couldn’t see what was wrong with using the palace stairs to get to the royal chambers, but again, she couldn’t argue with the Queen. She yawned as she padded through the tunnels, wishing that she was still back in bed. The cadets had decided to see who could walk on a wine barrel the entire length of the yard. Their hooting and hollering had kept her awake for most of the night, so she would’ve given anything for some extra hours of sleep. Not to mention her bed had been emptier than she wanted, D’artagnan and the others still in pursuit of Grimaud. Constance picked up her skirts to go up the stairs leading up to the Queen’s chambers, shaking her head to keep herself awake as she climbed the staircase. When she’d gotten most of the way up the stairs she stopped, hearing the hidden door going into the Queen’s bedchamber opening and moments later, a figure came down the stairs.

To Constance’s great surprise, the figure was none other than Treville, who slowed when he saw Constance. Constance looked at Treville, then the door to the Queen’s bedchamber, then back at Treville, her head cocked in silent inquiry. Treville had the grace to look embarrassed at being caught leaving the Queen’s bedchamber.

“I, ah…,” Treville began, but Constance held up a hand to cut him off.

“I don’t want to know,” Constance told him as she handed him the lantern.

“So, um,” Treville said, taking the light, “I’ll see you at the Garrison, then?”

“Yeah,” Constance replied, giving him a resigned look before moving to go up the stairs. “I cannot believe you slept with the Queen,” she tossed over her shoulder as she went up the stairs to the Queen’s bedchamber. She entered the bedchamber to find Anne at the washbasin, wringing out the cloth.

“Constance,” Anne said as she moved the cloth over her arms and shoulders, “thank you for coming. I know you must be wondering why I called you here.”

“The thought did occur to me, Your Majesty,” Constance replied, taking in the sight of the Queen’s bed, which was a complete mess. Whatever had happened last night, it had obviously been without care for the durability of the royal bed linen. 

“The levee is supposed be in half an hour,” Anne said, moving the cloth over her breasts and stomach, “and I didn’t want any of my ladies coming in and seeing…” she gestured toward the wreck of a bed.

Constance went over to the bed. “Hopefully the laundresses won’t look too closely at the stains,” she said, stripping off the sheets and dropping them in a pile in a corner of the room while Anne finished washing, then went to the armoire to bring out a fresh chemise and a pair of stockings, which she handed to the Queen.

“Which dress would you like to wear?” she asked, going back to the armoire.

“The lavender silk,” Anne replied as she put on the chemise, “and the gray kidskin heels.” She sat down on the stool in front of her vanity table, sliding the stockings up her long legs and securing them with garters, while Constance brought over the shoes, petticoats, and corset that she needed, before going back for the requested dress. Anne slid her feet into the heels, standing up as Constance rucked up the petticoats and put them over her head, securing them at Anne’s waist. Next came the corset, which Anne held in place while Constance laced up the back, cinching in the waist to make the Queen’s waist look tiny. After the corset was the underskirt, followed by the overdress. When Constance had finished lacing up the dress, she stepped back and nodded, satisfied with her handiwork. 

“How do you want your hair done?” She asked as Anne sat back down at the vanity table.

“Something simple,” Anne replied, looking at the clock, which told them they had only a quarter hour until her ladies arrived for the levee. 

Constance opened a drawer and took out a comb and bottle of pomade. She rubbed the pomade between her hands and raked her fingers through Anne’s hair, then took up the comb to backcomb Anne’s hair to add fullness.

“You must think me very immoral,” Anne said, “going to bed with another man while my husband is dying.”

Constance picked up a hair pad and held it to the back of Anne’s head. “You’ve been through a lot lately,” she said, arranging blond curls over the pad. “And Treville is very skilled at pleasing a woman in bed. Especially when he gets you on all fours.”

“You mean, you and he…” Anne asked as she looked at Constance in disbelief as she reached for pins to secure Anne’s hair and Constance nodded affirmatively. “When?”

“About two weeks after the regiment left for the front,” Constance told her, pushing pins into place.

“But I thought you loved D’artagnan,” Anne said, surprised at how quickly the other woman had taken Treville into her bed.

“I do love him. But,” Constance replied, inserting another pin, “there are some women who aren’t made to be celibate. I happen to be one of them.” She pushed the final pin into the coif then went to retrieve Anne’s jewel box, bringing it over for the Queen to select what jewels she wanted to wear. “Besides,” she said, taking the pearl necklace Anne handed her and securing it around the other woman’s neck, “Treville and I had been lovers when I was married to my first husband.” She put the pearl earrings into the pierced holes in Anne’s ears. “How do you think Bonacieux became the Musketeers’ cloth supplier? But what about you and Aramis? You still have feelings for him, even if you haven’t admitted it yet.” 

“I do,” Anne said, reflecting on her admission. Aramis had been the dream of love, the memory that she had clung to when Louis had shown his indifference to her, and when he had flaunted his relationship with Milady de Winter. Milady hadn’t been Louis’ first mistress. There had been two others, in the early years of their marriage, by the names of Marie and Louise. She hadn’t felt threatened by either of those women. Being a young bride newly arrived from Spain, she and Louis were still getting to know each other, and were more friends than lovers, plus her mother had told her that French kings had official mistresses and not to pay them any mind, concentrating instead on providing France with an heir. At that time, Louis was still reliant on the Cardinal for guidance, and the First Minister was not about to let another gain what he considered to be an unhealthy influence on Louis. He made sure the two ladies were never more than decorative items to enhance Louis’ prestige, then packed them both off to a convent once the King began to tire of them. But without the restraining influence of the Cardinal, Louis let his vanity take over, throwing discretion out the window and his relationship with Milady in Anne’s face. 

So, Anne held on to the memory of her white knight, but the real man was far from perfect. Aramis was handsome and kind, reaching out to her in a time of loneliness. Unfortunately, he was also impulsive, not thinking through his actions before he did them, like sneaking off to watch the Dauphin playing in the garden. And his affair with the governess Marguerite, which had nearly gotten them both killed, caused Anne to question his judgment. Memories were long at the French court, and the whispers would start immediately if she and Aramis tried to resume their relationship. Treville was the much more sensible choice for a liaison, discreet, with a shrewd mind, and a ranking member of the royal council, a man whose integrity no one would dare question. He was also a very attractive man and a talented lover. Her body was still humming from him waking her up to slide between her thighs for another round of erotic play before kissing her goodbye.

“How do you manage to get out of bed after Treville’s spent the night fucking you?” Anne asked, dabbing her cheeks and lips with the light alkanet rouge that was created especially for her.

“Very carefully, Your Majesty,” Constance deadpanned, handing Anne the small bottle of perfume to apply to her pulse points.

The two women exchanged laughing smiles as the clock struck the hour. Anne rose from the vanity table and went into the antechamber, followed by Constance, who closed the bedchamber doors behind them. A few moments later, the doors opened to admit the Court ladies who had come for the levee. The noblewomen looked at each other uncertainly, not knowing what to make of finding the Queen already up and dressed without having gone through the levee that was part of court protocol, but Anne’s serene smile prevented them from saying anything. Constance spotted a maid coming through a side door and gestured to the girl to follow her into the bedchamber. She handed the bundle of sheets to the chambermaid, giving her instructions to bring in fresh sheets. Then, seeing that the potential crisis had been averted, Constance went back through the tunnels, hoping to get another hour of sleep.


End file.
